


Gonzo Journalist

by cupcakefingers



Series: We fell in love in October [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Blow Jobs, Fellings Will Be Later, First Meetings, Hand Jobs, Hook-Up, Interviews, Kinda?, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Peter is smol, Porn With Plot, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spit Kink, Weird Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 14:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18942943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcakefingers/pseuds/cupcakefingers
Summary: “I think I have some time to spare,” he said softly, putting his backpack away and slowly making his way towards the man.“You look like you’re too hot, Mr. Parker.” He shivered again. “Why don’t you take off your jacket and make yourself comfortable over here.”***A young photographer working for The Daily Bugle hears about the tragic fate of an ex-soldier and decides to write an article about his cause to help him out. Maybe more than in one way.





	Gonzo Journalist

**Author's Note:**

> So... I know I'm trash and "You're an integral part of me" came out as first (even though chronologically it's... third, yeah, I have another one), but this dumpster fire is not going out as long as I'll still have ideas for this couple of idiots. And I have at least three more. All in progress. The other one will be updated to fit this one. Look out for easter eggs, they're tricky beasts.

Peter was quite indignant about this whole situation. He’s heard about that man’s case a little over a week ago and his internal need for justice was just killing him, even Ned Leeds was teasing him about seeing smoke coming out of his ears. Maybe that’s why he managed to convince the guy to help him make this story go public. Also, J. Jonah is a huge whore for drama and sobby stories for his newspaper, and both Peter and Ned could get some recognition for writing an article appealing to a demographic craving for social justice.

 

And while the prospect of a bonus was very important, this particular story really hit Peter’s heart. He’s heard a rumor about a U.S. Army soldier who got into an accident on a mission and was discharged from duty since his wounds were too severe. On its own - that’s nothing new or unusual, but in this case, the government tried to sweep the whole incident under the rug and left the soldier without rent or any kind of aid, apart from the obligatory “sit in a hospital until we can legally kick you out”.

 

He was so determined to publicize this story. Truth is - he was just a photographer, Ned was the journalist in the Daily Bugle, but they agreed that Peter would be the one to go see the poor man, take some pictures and interview him, while Leeds will take the material and write an article. He was quite surprised that the soldier was so willing to talk to him, though his feelings changed as he approached the building where he lived.

 

It was an old brick five stories-high shithole in West Bronx. It smelled of piss, there was a homeless man sleeping near the entrance and the fire escape looked like it wanted to escape from the walls. Going upstairs, Peter checked his equipment -camera and dictaphone- and the list of questions he prepared.

 

He took a couple of breaths to battle his nerves, it was his first interview after all, fixed his copper-wired glasses and knocked on the door, that looked like made from wood but sounded more like chipboard. He heard heavy footsteps on the other side and the turning of three locks before he saw a tall figure through the door gap. The corridor lights were dim and weirdly blinking, so he couldn’t see much of the man.

 

“Yeah? What is it?” a deep, raspy voice asked.

 

“Um, hi! My name Peter Parker, I-I’m here to have an interview with Mr. Wilson. I sent an e-mail...?”

 

He really tried not to sound like a chicken, but the situation was kinda intimidating, especially considering how big the man seemed and how small Peter was in comparison. The door instantly flew wide open and Mr. Wilson stepped aside, raising his hand invitingly.

 

“Come on in!” The man’s tone seemed to lighten up, as Peter went inside and shook his hand. “No ‘ _Mr. Wilson_ ’ though, just call me Wade. Or Winston if you’re nasty,” he said teasingly with a cheeky smile and Peter giggled, as he couldn’t make words come out of his mouth.

 

Wow. Wade Wilson was a giant, standing beside him. Around 7 feet tall with very broad shoulders, thick arms and thighs, and what looked like a pile of muscles under a hoodie and sweatpants. The hood was drawn all the way up in a way that showed only Wade’s lips, reddened jawline and part of the neck. While shaking hands, Peter couldn’t not notice the leather gloves. He also smelled weirdly good, even though he was not wearing any cologne.

 

There Peter was, worrying about being underdressed for the occasion, in his checked button-up and denim jacket. He felt he ought to be more intimidated by the physique difference, Peter was 5’4 and would describe himself as… scrawny. But he wasn't.

 

The man apparently noticed how short Parker was and tried to maneuver himself so that his face wouldn't be seen from the low angle. Peter hoped the soldier hasn’t seen the way his mouth watered and how he was staring at his arms. He was also wondering how hard would it be for Wade to pick him up. Or maybe throw over his shoulder. Carry around. Throw on a bed-

 

_Stop it, Parker, your gay is showing._

 

Wilson crossed his arms, as his eyes sized Peter up. “Jeez, since when newspapers hire cute puppies instead of brooding silent types in their forties.”

 

_HE CALLED ME CUTE._

 

“Make yourself comfortable, you want something to drink, kid?”

 

_… really?_

 

“I’m not a kid, I’m almost twenty,” Peter scoffed, a smile showing against his will.

 

“So orange juice,” Wade grinned, walking backward to the kitchen, “Baby boy’s gonna need his sugar.”

 

He lost his breath for a heartbeat and fixed his glasses again, deciding that he needs to stop freaking out. While sitting down on a couch, he took a moment to look at the apartment. It was quite small, with cracking wallpapers and furniture that looked like it was older than Wade himself.

 

The reddish couch was basically in the middle of the room, having a small coffee table and a TV in front. There were some empty shelves and an ancient wall unit. The room had three other doors, presumably one for the bedroom, one for the bathroom and the obvious one to the kitchen, since you could see Wade prowling through the refrigerator. The whole place was… not dirty. The table had no stains, there were no piles of trash and the couch look relatively clean, but you could clearly see the layer of dust on furniture and the carpet wasn’t vacuumed in forever. Could be better, could be worse.

 

He was in the middle of setting up the dictaphone when Wade came back with a can of beer and a glass of juice.

 

“Okay, so - maybe we should start with the interview,” he said with a shy smile.

 

“Fine with me. You’re going to put the entire thing into that article of yours?” Peter shook his head and tested the pen used for notes.

 

“No, we’ll just write a summary of what happened based on your statement, maybe use a quote or two.”

 

“Who’ll have access to the recording?”

 

That was a weird question, especially said in a stern tone. Maybe Wade was afraid of saying something he wasn’t supposed to say, they were gonna talk about the Army after all. He stared for a moment, thinking about his answer.

 

“Only me. I’ll make a transcript, give it to you for confirmation and delete the recording.” The man nodded. “Alright, let me just… Okay, all set up, let’s begin. My name is Peter Parker, today is October 2nd 2017 and this interview is done for The Daily Bugle. So first of all, why don’t you introduce yourself?”

 

“My name is Wade Winston Wilson, I’m 27 years old, I was born in America and lived there since I was a teenager. I am an ex-soldier of the U.S. Army, discharged due to my injuries acquired on active duty.”

 

Wow, that was a learned expression if he ever heard one. Even was said in a monotone. Peter wrote down basic information as Wade was saying them, then sent him a warm smile.

 

“You spent your childhood abroad?”

 

“Yeah, my mother is Canadian and I was living with her near the border until I was... around twelve. On the maple side of course.”

 

“What about your father?”

 

“My dad was also in the army, spent most of my childhood on duty, in California.”

 

He wrote down Wade’s microexpressions, how the man didn’t seem too nostalgic about his childhood memories and how he frowned just so slightly as his father was mentioned.

 

“That’s how you got into the military?”

 

“Not really, my father didn’t know when I enlisted. Or rather when they took me into the military program when I was 16.”

 

“Have you finished high school?” Peter furrowed his eyebrows and immediately relaxed them when Wade noticed.

 

“Dropout,” he deadpanned.

 

“Alright… So, can you please tell me what did you do in the military at such a young age?”

  
Wilson seemed to relax, threw an arm over his head and leaned backward, slightly drawing the hood up and showing the shadowed face up to the brow line. Peter thought to himself that he had really nice eyes. Either blue or gray. Or maybe light-green.

 

“They noticed pretty quickly that I was the best of the group in training, usually even better than guys outside of my age group. I was also good with weapons, hand-to-hand combat, explosive materials and… hm, _‘improvising’_.” Wade winked with a smirk, making Peter grin.

 

“Quick thinking, huh?”

 

“Yeah, more or less. I went on some missions and proved to be more than capable of doing a good job, especially on short actions. Long deployments and stakeouts weren’t my things. Then I was sent to join the Bloodmarsh unit, _still_ as a U.S. soldier.”

 

Peter never heard that name before. “What is a Bloodmarsh unit?”

 

“It’s a mercenary military force.”

 

“Like Blackwater?” Wade chuckled in response.

 

“They’re called Academi now, but yeah. Bloodmarsh started as a Blackwater branch when it was still called like that. Blackwater’s primary services were security, while Bloodmarsh was a special unit used for more… risky missions. Risky as in more dangerous _and bad for publicity_. That’s why it wasn’t flaunted around in public. I’m not surprised you’ve never heard of it.”

 

Peter licked his lips after drinking from his glass. They’re going into a ‘no-no territory’, but he was always curious and just maybe Wade would slip some information. Though he was not sure if they would make through the editor. He decided to take the risk.

 

“So Bloodmarsh worked in the underground and did the jobs that were illegal to do for Blackwater, is that correct?”

 

Wilson grinned widely and Peter thought he had really nice teeth. “I cannot answer that question,” he said humorlessly despite his smile.

 

“Since it was a mercenary unit, how was it possible that you were deployed there as a soldier on duty?” Peter asked without thinking.

 

“It wasn’t. Legally.” He didn’t stop smiling.

 

“But every order you got was technically from the Army, right?”

 

“Correct.”

 

“Was the deployment your decision?”

 

“It was a ‘ _I won’t tell anyone if you don’t_ ’ thing, but on papers that’s where I was deployed by my superior’s decision.”

 

Wade stopped for a beat, his grin falling slightly. “Can you cut some of the things out? Like, more incriminating stuff, cause I know I’m a blabbermouth and I try not to commit suicide _by accident_.”

 

It made Peter snort, even if it was a grim joke. “Yes, of course, I’ll make changes in the transcript. Why the name ‘bloodmarsh’?”

 

“Blackwater’s naming tactic. The HQ was situated near marshes that had some weird-ass red moss growing on it.”

 

“Alright, so… can you tell me about the accident?”

 

Peter shyly studied the scars on Wade’s face, looking at different colors and shapes. Some of them seemed to have different textures. Wilson caught him staring and looked like someone trying not to be surprised.

 

“We were sent to retrieve documents from a taken Stark Industries weapons facility in Iraq-” he stopped as Peter frowned, inhaling sharply, and fixed glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.

 

“That is… not good, I’ll have to edit it. I’d have to ask my boss if we can mix the Stark name into the article, but we _cannot_ say that the government sent mercenaries to Iraq to kill a bunch of foreign soldiers.”

 

“It’s not that important to the story, so we can skip the whole foreign part completely,” Wade continued after a moment of silence, “Alright, so we went on a mission, we had intel that the enemy forces were inside the building. We were supposed to surprise them, but for some reason, they knew we were coming.”

 

“Was a trap?” Peter returned to taking notes.

 

“Yeah. We got into open fire, some fucktard set up explosives, I don’t know if they were theirs or ours. There were barrels of some very strong chemicals nearby and not far from there - three of our men. Slott, Duggan and me.”

 

“What happened to them?”

 

“Both dead, written as MIA.” Peter’s jaw dropped. They can’t write someone as ‘missing in action’ if the corpses were identified. Or at least shouldn’t been able to do it.

 

Wade sent him a sad crooked smile. “Yeah, apparently the bodies were ‘missing’ because obviously that mission never happened... I don’t know if we should keep that part,” he was almost whispering.

 

“Their families deserve to know what happened, especially when there hasn’t been a proper burial,” Peter said sternly, feeling anger inside.

 

“Yeah. You’re probably right… Ekhem, well, getting back to my side of the story, I was lucky as fuck. A shelf shielded me from the explosion, but on the other hand, all of those chems started pouring right in my face.”

 

“So these are chemical burns?” For a moment Peter forgot to take notes.

 

“Yep, doc said 70% of my skin has gone to the crapper. Including my mug.”

 

“How are you not blind?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

 

“I am. Partially. Left eye’s out of service.” Wade waved aimlessly on his left and smirked, while Peter felt a need to have a drink.

 

“Does your skin require any special treatment?”

 

“Mostly just stretching and some creams to keep the scars elastic.”

 

“What were those chemicals? Why they were there?”

 

“Have no idea. Ask Stark. Or those guys in Iraq, I don’t know who they’ve belonged to.”

 

Peter shifted on the couch to face Wade even more and bit his lips, as the other man drank from the can.

 

“Do you have any other injuries that may prevent you from getting back into the military?”

 

Wilson exhaled with a whistle. “Calf muscles got the biggest hit and are damaged. I can run short distances, but things like jogging for more than 2 minutes are a no-no. Other than that, my spine got hit by a 350 lbs of a steel shelf. Carrying anything over 150 is a huge strain, anything over 200 is a hospital visit. I also can’t stand for long periods of time.”

 

A shiver went through Peter’s back at the thought of what Wade has gone through. “Is that everything?”

 

The man scrunched his nose and sighed, “I think the spine hit damaged some nerves, cause I don’t have full control over my right hand. That’s as far as I can go-” The fingers couldn’t form a fist. Then he raised his arm and bent the elbow, stopping both movements half-way. “-And that’s also it.”

 

The brunet closed his gaping mouth and felt himself almost pouting. “Please tell me you’re left-handed or ambidextrous.”

 

“Right-handed,” Wade smiled, seeing the look on Pete’s face.

 

“Jesus. How did you… kept all of- I mean, how are you still in… such good shape?” He felt really stupid for asking that question after what he just heard, but he was genuinely curious.

 

“I try to work with what I can, mostly my own weight and do exercises that my body can handle. Working my back muscles makes my spine stronger. I also swim a lot.”

 

“You came to all of that by yourself or learned in rehabilitation?”

 

“I didn’t get rehabilitation. When they treated me to the point that I could walk and hold piss on my own, they threw me out of the hospital.”

 

“Did you get any other form of compensation?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“How are you still living?” The question slipped before he thought about it and only Wade’s surprised expression got him back to earth. “I mean, there are lots of homeless vets, how come you’re not one of them?”

 

Wade winced, clearly not comfortable with the subject. “Bloodmarsh pay was _really_ good. It all went into my bank account while I was stationed there, so when I got out of the hospital, I had a small pile of money. I also sold my old apartment and moved to this _shithole_. Tried to look for work, but I can’t do physical labor and non-physical requires education or looks. I have neither, so no one wanted me.”

 

“And the military-”

 

“The military doesn’t want anything to do with me. I have no job prospects because of my injuries and my little pile of money is getting smaller. I have no doubts that if nothing changes, I’d have to live on the street.”

 

Whoa, he felt that statement hit him right in the guts. He coughed, closing his notebook and smiling as warmly as he could while turning the recording off. He felt Wade’s eyes on the movement.

 

“Okay, I think that’s enough. Wow…”

 

“Yeah, sorry about going down like that,” the man chuckled.

 

“No, no! That’s good actually. Readers love drama and people they could feel pity towards, so they could feel better about themselves. It’s kind of messed up, like they get all high from ‘thoughts and prayers’,” Peter said with a playful wink.

 

“You’ve got it all figured out,” he responded, narrowing his eyes.

 

“Well, I’m a photographer - I have to know what kinds of pictures get people worked up.”

 

“Yeah, all hot and bothered,” Wade murmured, changing his tone to low, staring at Peter’s movements and he could feel those eyes on him.

 

_Oh my god, was that innuendo intentional? Was mine? He’s staring at me. Are we flirting right now? Like gay flirting? I mean, yeah, gay flirting - we’re two men, but is it gay-gay flirting? What is happening._

 

“Speaking of… I told you in my email that I’d like to-” he started, avoiding eye-contact.

 

“Photos of my injuries. I know, I remember. So, how do you want me?” Wade threw his arms away with a cheeky smile and Peter’s pretty sure a couple of synapses in his brain just fried, so he stood up and tried to distract himself with the camera.

 

“Umm, we could do photos of your front and back waist-up, maybe one of your face, if you’re comfortable with that, and we’ll see if there are any like big scars that we can add in. Oh, and I asked if you had any pictures of yourself pre-accident-”

 

“Yeah, here they are, you can take them.”

 

He pulled out and handed two creased photos before the brunet could say anything. One of them was a standard military portrait and the other was a group photo of a training unit, and Peter was just amazed how good looking Wade was before the accident. Of course, he still had his sharp jawline, thick neck, hooded eyes, and slim lips, but the lack of blonde hair and the scars could scramble the image.

 

He still thought Wilson was handsome, he wasn’t bothered by the scars - they looked like _normal_ scars. There was nothing oozing out, no blisters or scabs, just discoloration, and uneven textures. And of course his size… He was _oh so much_ bigger and bulkier than Peter, and it made the skin on his neck tingle. He almost hadn’t noticed when Wade took off the hood.

 

“Thank you! Why don’t we start with the face? Try to look all sad and miserable,” he said teasingly, fixing his glasses, and smirked when Wade started doing different kinds of sad faces. He went for the classic high-angle, as the image would make readers feel somehow superior. “Yep, that’s it. Great.”

 

“Here’s your money shot.”

 

There was no way in hell that was unintentional, not with the way Wade licked his lips, not with the way he spoke and definitely not with the way he looked him directly in the eyes. It almost made Peter drop his camera, while his jaw actually dropped. He gulped loudly, before Wade continued, taking off his gloves and placing them on the coffee table.

 

“So next we have chest - will that wall do for a background?” Peter could only nod, as he watched the man stand up and move towards the plain wall. Scarred hands gripped the hem of his hoodie but hesitated. “Em, could you maybe… turn around?”

 

Peter snapped out and turned, feeling his cheeks getting warm. “Oh yeah, sorry!”

 

Wade hummed and the brunet was not ready for what he saw. Well, obviously he noticed before that the man was buffed, but _holy hell_. He knew it was probably his size kink talking through him, but Wilson looked better than Michelangelo’s David. And that statue was his gay awakening. And no, he’ll never admit that out loud.

 

“First maybe the back piece,” he said in a small voice.

 

Peter noticed that some of the scars reflected his camera’s flash, creating shiny silver markings and thought they looked beautiful. The patterns were uneven and different on every photo.

 

“Alright, awesome, Wade… Now front - can you do a military stance? Like with arms behind your back.”

 

“Mhm, like that? You like your guys with hands behind their backs?” He responded with a darker, suggestive tone.

 

An image of Wade on his knees, with hands tied up and Peter’s cum on his face, popped up and _god_ , he wanted to rip his brain out and throw it out of the window. He realized with horror that he’s semi-hard. Alright, this has to stop while he’ll still be able to look at himself in the mirror tomorrow morning. He heard a cough.

 

“Sorry! Just-... Okay, got it. What’s that scar? The big one?”

 

There was a huge portion of evenly reddened skin on Wade’s right side, going from the lower rib cage and disappearing on hip, under the sweatpants. It seemed to be differently textured like a jute bag was pressed into the flesh.

 

“That one? The chems melted a piece of fabric and it stuck to my skin, had to be surgically removed, so now I have this beauty,” Wade said playfully, presenting the scar, seeing as Peter’s clearly not bothered by them.

 

“Can you stand sideways and show it more?” He definitely didn't want to place Wade like that to look at the slim stomach or the curve of his butt. He would never. Nu-uh.

 

“Sure thing, buttercup.”

 

“Perfect,” he whispered, the realized what he actually said, “um, yeah, I mean, the photos are perfect! I have everything, thank you so much.”

 

“Do you really think we can win this?” Wade crossed his arms and watched Peter gather his things into a backpack.

 

“If it goes to court, then we have two strong cases that we can bring up and rely on. I mean… you can rely on. The first one is The Trial of James Barnes-”

 

“Bucky’s was about human rights and not taking responsibility for his actions because of Nazis messing with his head - that’s not really my case,” he snarked.

 

“Yes, but a part of their demands was the government paying for his prosthetic arm and for his therapy. So it stands. The second one is Nathan Summers and his compensation for battle injuries. Do you know about that one?”

 

Wade scoffed, raising his chin, “Do I know it? I was friends with Nate and one of the witnesses for his case.”

 

“Oh, that’s perfect! Maybe we can get Summers to make a statement in your favor,” Peter beamed.

 

“Worth a try,” he shrugged, while Peter finished his drink and leaned on one of the dusty cupboards.

 

“So um… how did your parents react to this whole thing?”

 

“My dad seems to think that I committed high treason, even if it wasn’t my decision to join Bloodmarsh. There was also the other thing…” His expression changed from blank into just sad, as he continued.

 

“After some time in the military, the whole unit already knew I… swung both ways, if you catch my drift, was inevitable. I mean, I’m a blabbermouth so pretty soon everyone knew I liked sucking dick. But since I wasn’t interested in hitting on anyone and flirted with nurses like everyone else, it ended on some teasing, mostly. Most of the guys either seemed fine with it or at least pretended to not care. _But~_ then the glorious news reached mommy and daddy, and they thought I was devil incarnate and a disgrace to the army. I’m pretty sure if it wasn’t for _his_ efforts to fuck me up, I’d at least get a rehabilitation.”

 

“We can actually use that information. I mean, if we can make a clear suggestion that you were discriminated because of your orientation, then maybe we can get the LGBT community on our side. Those guys can make some noise.” Wade chuckled in response.

 

Peter’s eyes ran to the side and he fiddled with his fingers, knuckles cracking. “Do you… have anyone special? I mean _did_. In the army.”

 

Wade sent him a _look_ but haven’t commented.

 

“No, I didn’t. When I had the looks, there were some one night stands with nurses or other guys. And when I lost them… well, it was mostly creeps that wanted to have sex with a freak and see how it feels like. You know, the kind of guys that would fuck a warm pizza pocket if they were horny enough. Ladies weren’t that keen on. Or desperate,” he laughed, but it was full of self-deprecation.

 

“Hey, don’t say that!”

 

“Don’t say what?” the man looked at him with curiosity, then started approaching slowly.

 

“That someone has to be desperate to want to… I don’t know, hook up or be with you, or...  whatever.”

 

“ ‘ _Or whatever_ ’? So what, you don’t think I’m a freak?” He was dangerously close to Peter, they could feel each other’s breaths, as the latter panted, his chest tightening, cheeks warming up from pumping blood.

 

“No, I think, I think you look… pretty hot.”

 

“Pretty hot?”

 

“Yeah. Pretty hot.” Wilson bit his lips.

 

“Do you have someone special, Mr. Parker?” Peter felt a violent shiver go up his spine and tauten his neck muscles.

 

“No, no I don’t,” he responded almost breathlessly when the other one backtracked towards the couch.

 

“The interview is over, I gave you everything you wanted for that article. So if you’re interested in having more chit-chat _or whatever_ , then you’re welcome to stay,” he said, making himself comfortable, “but if you’re too busy, that’s not a problem.”

 

He’s giving him an out. Well, Peter doesn’t really do hookups, but with Wade, spread shirtless for him on this old couch… No way in hell he’s missing out on this.

 

“I think I have some time to spare,” he said softly, putting his backpack away and slowly making his way towards the man.

 

“You look like you’re too hot, _Mr. Parker_.” He shivered again. “Why don’t you take off your jacket and make yourself comfortable over here.”

 

The only thing Peter could hear, was his own blood pumping, deafening him. There was a sweaty itch on his neck and his skin burned under the shirt, as denim slipped down onto the floor. There was something about Wade saying that phrase, he just couldn’t pinpoint why he reacted so strongly to it, not that many people called him like that.

 

Before he knew it, he was already standing before the other man, looking down at his smirk. He kinda wanted to make it go away. Licking his lips, he settled his legs around Wade’s thighs and felt large hands gripping on hip bones. He could feel the tightness of his pants, but there was no shame or previous shyness - now, he just wanted to make that cocky smile of his go away.

 

Wade yelped quietly, as Peter narrowed his eyes and crushed lips against his own. Biting, pulling and licking, palms kneading at his scarred pecs, only trying to requite with fingers scraping at slim thighs and digging into soft sides. Then going up, to undo the buttons of his shirt.

 

He’d never expect such fervor from this small bundle of blush and innocence he took Peter for earlier. He genuinely thought the kid _-he’s almost twenty-_ would play an inexperienced virgin, maybe with a dash of daddy kink. Clearly, that wasn’t the case. Especially when he tried to surprise Peter, maybe make him squeak or whine, while he would play with his small pink nipples. But his hands were stopped by smaller ones, and pulled sharply to his sides, into the cushions.

 

“Hands stay here,” Peter whispered against his lips, then growled, when Wade tried to move back and was shoved back into the couch. “I said **_Hands. Stay. Here._** ”

 

The glasses fell slightly down Peter’s nose, so he tossed them aside, then ground his erection into Wade’s, admiring the way his pupils dilated and the choked groan that left his mouth. Panting heavily, they stared at each other, Peter’s hands still gripping Wade’s wrists. With hips moving in a rhythm, where every push, every bit of pressure was sending jolts of pleasure through their backs.

 

His left hand went up to the scarred skin, stopping at the base of Wade’s neck, bit to the side, on shoulder muscle. Gripping firmly, but not choking -not at all!- though he could if he wanted to. Wade tilted his head backward, beautifully exposing the column of his throat. Peter’s thumb traveled slowly up to his Adam’s apple and stayed there, maybe pressed lightly, enough to feel but not to hurt. Wade’s body froze, jaw dropped, as he breathed slowly through gaping lips, waiting in uncertainty.

 

Peter looked at his face only once, before sending him a beaming smile and lowering himself, landing kisses and kitten licks all around the throat. Wade’s body relaxed, then jolted when a slim hand grabbed his manhood, as small moans left his mouth.

 

He kept palming and feeling Wade, trying to assess length and girth, before finally pulling him out. His gaze immediately went down and the first thought that appeared was ‘pretty’. There were no scars down there, he was uncut and it felt like Wade had a normal standard size. Which compared to the rest of his massive body, looked almost… small?

 

Peter felt a tingle in the back of his neck as his mouth watered. He had no idea why it was turning him on, he knew about dick humiliation kinks and stuff like that but never seemed interested. It’s not like he wants to make fun of Wade, it’s just a nice thought to have.

 

He raised his hand and held it in front of the man’s face, palm opened, like he would in the classroom, while Wade’s eyes followed the movement curiously. Peter’s lips curled in a smirk.

 

“ _Spit_ .”

 

Wade raised his hairless eyebrows in surprise for a moment, then his face fell in pleasure when Peter’s other hand squeezed the shaft of his dick. He panted shortly, eyes dilated, and spat on the hand. The brunet quickly added his own saliva and started jerking him off. He looked with satisfaction when slim fingers went up and down, held tight and released, straight and twisting at the end.

 

Wade reciprocated with whimpers and occasional full-body jerks, still trying to keep his hands on the cushions. When their eyes locked, he inhaled brokenly. His hips bucked violently when Peter tilted his head and slowly dropped a string of saliva from his mouth to the tip, the spread it around the slit with his thumb.

 

Seeing Wade’s reaction, Peter got an idea. A risky one, but he really wanted to try it and the man’s previous reactions to their play were… promising. His hand sped up as they kissed, tongues slipping and fighting each other. And just as Wade’s body tightened the right way, he moved back from his lips, still keeping the pace.

 

“Open your mouth,” he said hoarsely as Wade complied with a dazed look, completely out of it, “Wider.”

 

Then he spat into his opened mouth, missing just slightly in the heat of the moment, part of saliva splashing on the corner and dripping onto the cheek. Wade’s eyes shut, his muscles tensed impossibly, as he let out something that started as a moan and ended up an almost scream, spilling all over his naked chest, going as far as his jaw.

 

Peter was quite contented with the result and the fact that none of the said result got on his shirt. He watched Wade going down from the high, licked away his own fluid from Wade’s cheek, feeling the uneven texture and kissed softly chapped lips.

 

“Holy shit, baby boy…,” Wade panted against his mouth, “How did you know I’d be into that?”

 

“I didn’t, I just kinda winged it,” he chuckled, “Did you know you’d be into this?”

 

“Fuck no, never thought about it honestly.” Wade’s eyes were glassy with tears gathering up in the corners. “But wow, I can’t remember last time I came so hard, fuck.”

 

Peter felt himself grow at least three times, full of proud, even though Wade was probably exaggerating. He wriggled on Wade’s lap, suddenly reminded how tight his pants are, and felt blood warming up his cheeks.

 

Wade reached to the table for a box of tissues and started cleaning himself up, one hand resting on the brunet’s leg, but slightly twisted, so some of his fingers would rest on the inner thigh.

 

“So, I’ve told you quite a chunk of my story, why don’t you tell me something about yourself?”

 

“There isn’t really anything interesting about me, I’m a pretty boring person, to be honest.”

 

Peter felt disappointment, thinking the other man has no intention of helping out with the problem in his pants, but it quickly disappeared when calloused fingers started delicately caressing his thigh and going up to the groin.

 

“Bullshit, you’re too smart to be boring,” he chuckled, “You work for The Daily Bugle?”

 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I’m a photographer. Though actually, I’m more of a freelancer, just selling most of my pictures to them.”

 

“So you don’t have much time on your hands, yet you still need money. You’re a student?”

 

“Empire State University, I’m studying robotic engineering and biochemistry.”

 

“Nerd,” Wade whispered, smiling, while his hand started palming Peter’s crotch, “So student loans?”

 

“Kinda, but scholarship helps a lot,” he breathed.

 

“Anyone helping you out?”

 

“My aunt. I live with her since I was five.” _Don’t think about May. Don’t think about May. Don’t think about May._

 

“Parents?"

 

“Died in a plane crash.”

 

Wade snorted. “Que in sad origin story music.”

 

Peter felt large hands quickly switching their place and before he could react, he was in the air, trying to stabilize himself. Wilson’s hands grabbed the back of his thighs and placed his knees on the shoulders in a way, so they’d put some of his body weight on the headrest, while Wade's head still had pretty good access to everything that mattered at the moment.

 

“Wha-,” he yelped when the man leaned forward and started mouthing his erection through tight jeans.

 

“How she handled you liking dick?”

 

“When I came out she was… surprised, I think? Shut down for a day or two, but then quickly got together and since then, I’ve never met a more tolerant person.” _Can we please stop talking about May?_

 

“She religious?”

 

“Protestant Christian, but I don’t know if that was her strugg-,” his voice cut off when he felt teeth biting him delicately.

 

“You said you got a scholarship, which school you finished?”

 

“Midtown High. Got the-” A moan left his mouth. “-highest scholastic average.”

 

“Attaboy! Help me out here? I don’t have a free hand on hand.” Wade winked and nodded towards his zipper.

 

The brunet had to admit that Wade lifting him to get his head between Peter’s legs and then asking him to guide- alright, it was probably the sexiest thing he ever saw. He let out a long breath, keeping calm. Then quickly opened his zipper and got himself out to meet Wade’s eyes.

 

He grabbed his penis, guiding towards the man’s lips. Wade’s tongue darted out to meet the head, the started circling around it, pushing lightly against the split or flattening it to lick the node underneath.

 

After some time spent on teasing, Peter knew it won’t take long, but somehow didn’t care - he’s been hard for what felt like an hour and had enough. Without much thinking, the other hand rested on the back of Wade’s head, feeling and caressing the scars. Then it pushed gently, giving a clear sign he wants more. Wilson smiled and opened his mouth, letting himself be pushed, while his eyes went upwards, to meet Peters.

 

The brunet tried to stop a whine escaping his lips, but failed. When Wade got to work down there, he again tried to stop any sounds, but quickly gave up, giving himself away to the warm and wet feeling. He felt Wade swallow around him and it was like the air was punched out of his chest. The pressure coiled inside his abdomen, his breath hitched and hips twitched. Everything happened fast - the built up pleasure unraveled itself, while he managed to pull his dick out of the man’s mouth just in time to paint it with his release.

 

“Alright, seems like everything today is _on me_ ,” Wade laughed, gently putting him back down.

 

“Well, we’re in your house and I have to be at work in like… half an hour ago.” Peter smiled, getting a new tissue and cleaning the man’s face. Then kissed it softly. “Thank you.”

 

“Wowie, no one ever thanked me for giving them a bj. I mean, I know I’m amazing at it but seems like you’re something, baby boy.”

 

The haze in his head lightened enough to make him feel slightly embarrassed by the compliment. Wade helped him get dressed, stealing small kisses in the meantime. Peter, being already 40 minutes late, leaned against the door - backpack in one hand and notepad in the other.

 

“So… guess I’m gonna hit the shower,” Wade asked, raising arms high above his head and stretching them, flexing muscles. Peter watched his body without shame. “You sure you don’t wanna second round?”

 

Brunet huffed. “What I want doesn’t really matter to J. Jonah, he’s already gonna whoop my ass for being late. So I really gotta go.”

 

All air went out of Wade. His arms fell, limp. He looked like he wants to say something, but can’t get it out. Peter opened the notepad and scribbled something.

 

“But~ I’ll have to check that transcript with you. And I don’t really like doing it over emails, and it’s always easier to make adjustments face to face, so...” He tore out a page, crumpled it, then threw right into Wade’s hands. “Call me.”

 

***

 

_27th June 2019_

 

_LOVE WINS WITH THE MILITARY_

 

_Our Readers may remember a very controversial lawsuit made in 2017 by an ex-soldier Wade Wilson against the U.S. Army. He was forced into mercenary work by his superior and during one of several illegal missions, was heavily injured. As a result, Mr. Wilson was discharged from duty permanently and denied both compensation and proper rehabilitation, which left him one of the many sad veteran stories._   
_Fortunately, not every story has to end badly - yesterday, on June 26th 2019, The Supreme Court gave the final decision in this matter. The judge and jury, after an intervention from The Human Rights Committee, both stood behind the victim, granting him with life annuity and coverage of all the medical bills connected to the injuries acquired on that unfortunate mission._   
_Furthermore, Mr. Wilson’s superiors at the time also got their punishment for forcing soldiers on duty into doing illegal mercenary work. Colonel Daniel Way was dishonorably discharged and general Robert Liefeld was fined with $100,000, while the whole unit of mercenaries got disbanded. General Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross publicly condemned the actions of his peers and swore that a similar incident will never happen._   
_It’s important to mention all the help that Mr. Wilson got during his clash with the government. Anthony Stark, the CEO of Stark Industries, felt partly responsible for the accident, as the mission took place in one of his facilities (more on his relations with the military on page 9). Mr. Stark enthusiastically supported Mr. Wilson both financially and in the light of publicity. Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes and sergeant Nathan Summers both expressed their support in Wilson's case, similarly to captain Steven Rogers, which turned out to be a tremendous help in face of the jury._   
_Equally helpful turned out to be Peter Parker - one of the two journalists who were responsible for making this story public. Mr. Parker is seen as a force behind the success, gathering the attention of every possible community and organization that may have cared and morally supporting Wade Wilson in his final battle, later becoming his life partner._   
_As seen in the picture above, with Wade Wilson and Peter Parker kissing in victory, seconds after The Supreme Court’s decision, love and stubbornness can win even against the all-powerful government. And it's always good to hear that at least one of the tragic stories ended up good._   
  
  
_By Edward Leeds for The Daily Bugle_

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where did all the spitting came from. I don't have that kink but it was writing itself, it just fit


End file.
